


Tylwyth Teg - Fairies on a Welsh Mountain

by Ernestin3, FedonCiadale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And they were co-workers, Curses, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fairies, Happily Ever After, Light Angst, Luna matchmaker, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Pining, Wales, flirty banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ernestin3/pseuds/Ernestin3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Draco Malfoy, on probation in the department for the surveillance of magical creatures, is ordered by his boss, Luna Lovegood to collect tears from the elusive Welsh fairies for a much needed potion. Of all people, it is Hermione Granger, the witch from the Department of Law who is to come along.Will Draco finally be able to curb his tongue and tell her all the compliments that are in his head?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110
Collections: July - September Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020





	Tylwyth Teg - Fairies on a Welsh Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mad Frankenstein Fest at the Dramione fanfic Discord server. It's a writer - artist collaboration. And Ernestin3 was kind enough to make a picture AND a moodboard for my fic.  
> Visit them on tumblr or instagram:  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ernestine88  
> https://www.instagram.com/ernestine.88/

Draco’s boss came into his office before he had finished his morning coffee, but there was no use giving not so subtle hints that it was too early in the morning - not with Luna Lovegood. He was only this early because he wanted to avoid his parents. His father was making plans again for what Draco should do after he had finished his ‘social work’ in the ministry. Draco resented that his father refused to call his work what it was: probation. Draco still had to tell him though, that he actually liked his work and that he wanted to continue, even after his probation would be over at the end of the year.

In the department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he usually went unnoticed. Order members who thought he had been a coward in the war obviously had come to the conclusion that he could little to no harm in this department. Remaining blood purists shook their heads at his work that would be beneath any of them. That suited Draco just fine.

Lovegood picked up his quill and fiddled with it before she finally deigned to focus and speak.

“I do have a task for you,” she told him.

“As long as neither a hippogriff nor a weasel are involved,” Draco answered. He took a sip from his coffee. Lovegood shook her head, but there was also a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. After two and a half years, she had grown accustomed to Draco’s jokes. Sometimes she would even laugh.

“This is a unique opportunity, especially for you. I saw Tylwyth Teg in Snowdonia in Wales.”

Draco tried to put together his meagre knowledge about Wales. “Welsh fairies?”

“Yes, and not any Tylwyth Teg. Tylwyth Teg Gwirionedd.”

Draco was about to say that ‘Truth Fairies’ who dwelt in the Welsh mountains were only a myth, but he stopped himself. He might be getting along with his boss swimmingly, and the witch was surprisingly kind, especially if you took into account, that she had been a prisoner in Malfoy manor for months, but she drew a line at doubting her ability to see magical creatures no one else saw.

Draco usually just went along.

“I want you to persuade them to give you some of their tears.”

Draco was dumbstruck. He’d better cut Lovegood short on this. There was no way that fairies would give tears to him. He was tainted by the Dark Mark. “Fairy tears? Boss, I’m not sure that …. “

Lovegood looked at him with her big blue eyes. “We could use them for Theo’s potion. You know the one that helps against lingering after-effects of the _cruciatus_ pains.”

Draco’s hands trembled against his will. What could he say to that? He swallowed his protests. If it were not Lovegood he would have assumed that someone wanted to give him a task he was bound to fail at. If it were not Theo, who had grown close to Lovegood, he would be suspicious.

He took the coin that laid on his desk and flipped it. Heads. He tried to calm himself. Heads meant that it was one of Lovegood’s fantasies.

He scrunched his face. If he returned without anything to show for the trip, he might still be accused of sabotage. He had wanted to ask Lovegood if he could just stay in the department after his probation, but now he was not so sure if he had maybe imagined it all. The fact that they got along, that the kind witch enjoyed his company. His heart plummeted and he took his refuge in occlumency.

“You know that the idea, that the Tylwyth Teg only give their tears to the pure-hearted is a myth, don’t you?” she asked.

Draco was tempted to laugh. Now she was indulging one of her theories. At least, she might not want to set him up. He flipped the coin again. Still heads.

Nevertheless, he listened intently as Lovegood explained to him, that the key to persuading the fairies was to be respectful, kind and truthful. They abhorred fights. Draco nodded along. He was convinced that he would not see a whiff of these fairies. If they even existed. Which they did not according to his coin.

“You’re far better cut out for this task than I am,” he finally said. “I’ll manage truthful, but being respectful, or kind, is not my forte.”

He grimaced. “It’s my bloody tongue. You know it has a life of its own.” It sure felt like that.

“I have the international conference on Centaur rights in Paris,” Lovegood said. “And you know the Tylwyth Teg will have vanished by the time the full moon vanes. I know you can rein yourself in, Draco. You are nice enough to me.”

The corner of her mouth quirked and her kind, slightly unfocused smile made a full appearance. “You’re polite to Harry. Even if you don’t manage to be nice to Ron.”

Draco wanted to cringe, but he shrugged instead, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “O.k. Snowdonia it is… But please do not boost Theo’s hopes.”

Lovegood beamed. “Wonderful!”

She made to leave. She delivered the blow when she was just standing at the door.

“I almost forgot. You know we must adhere to the new law for the responsible use of potions ingredients taken from magical creatures. So, you will be accompanied by a lawyer.”

“Boss, there is absolutely no way anyone can coerce fairies. That is ridiculous.”

She shrugged. “The Minister insists. Hermione Granger will come along to ensure that you don’t coerce the Tylwyth Teg.”

“Hermione Granger? With me?” Draco jumped up in panic. His treacherous heart began to pound. “When the Fairies want respectful and kind? Luna, that spells disaster. I might as well stay here.”

“I am sure, you’ll get along splendidly. You might not have realised, but you have the same sort of humour. The karignats told me.” She nodded and left.

Draco flipped his coin. Tails. Karignats, whatever they were, obviously existed. Now, he could fret about his assignment that put him with Hermione for a whole night in search of some obscure Welsh fairies. That didn’t exist. Brilliant.

***

“Granger,” he greeted her with a curt nod. He wanted to tell Hermione how nice she looked. How the stray curl that framed her face sat perfectly to accentuate her cheeks. Just like every other time, he occluded instead, trying to mask his feelings.

“My favourite ferret,” Hermione greeted him in turn, but there was only little malice and more playfulness in her voice.

Draco stamped on the little voice in his head that shouted triumphantly that at least he was her favourite something.

They apparated directly after each other to Wales, just below the summit of the mountain where the Tylwyth Teg had been sighted.

“I thought I’m only your favourite ferret when I bounce. I’m sorry to disappoint you though. Bouncing is my stress relief, and I only do that after a day spent in your presence.”

How did he not have control over his tongue? He always intended to stop the bickering; to be nice and polite. So that he could finally, finally become something else for Hermione than her annoying partner when the Law Department and the RaCoMC had to work together. If he carried on like that, he would wallow in self-pity and self-reproach the moment he hit the floo at the Manor. Which would in turn lead to being questioned by both his parents. He occluded even harder than before.

“And here I thought you would spend the evenings after our forced collaborations bringing the score of the ongoing Granger-Malfoy match up to date. Where does it stand anyway? Malfoy: 5, Granger: 75? And how do you cope with the pain that that score induces?”

He made a point of studying her. “I see you’ve gnawed at enough trees lately, keeping your beaver teeth short enough to speak properly. How you manage that in addition to all the reading you do is beyond me.”

He handed her his second water bottle and some of his biscuits.

“I’ve learned to gnaw at trees and read simultaneously,” she answered with a straight face. “Did you learn to bounce and upgrade our score simultaneously?”

“No need to do that. I’ve spelled a score board at home. And it reads Malfoy: LXXV and Granger: V.” The little voice in his head chided him that he was not a teenager any longer; that pulling Hermione’s braids was not what a grown man should do. But it was as it had always been. All his resolutions evaporated in the heat of their bickering; his burning need to tell her compliments, to be nice somehow buried beneath his snark. He could have slapped himself. “Roman numerals, Granger, in case you didn’t know.”

“I attended the same arithmancy lessons as you, Malfoy.”

“Really? And there I thought that had been some other bushy haired swot who tried to reach the ceiling every time Vector asked a question.”

There was a root that had grown straight over their path and Draco caught Hermione when she stumbled, just before she fell.

They had reached a crossing of paths, and Hermione sighed. “Look Malfoy, if we keep going on like that, the Tylwyth Teg won’t even look at us.”

“Provided they exist.” Draco flipped his coin. Heads. He showed the result to Hermione. “Look, they don’t exist.”

“Malfoy, are you flipping a coin to decide if Luna’s creatures exist?”

“Do you happen to know a better way to decide that? If so, please enlighten me! Anyway, it is enchanted. I feed the results into the charm, so the coin gets better with every sample. It is fairly accurate by now.”

He flipped the coin again. Tails. “Karignats on the other hand seem to exist.”

“Karignats.” Hermione’s voice was flat.

“Yes, the little creatures that told Lovegood that we have the same kind of humour. And that she should specifically ask for you as the lawyer when I go out to meet with creatures.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks.

“Don’t look at me like that, Granger. Up until this morning I had no idea karignats exist, nor that they make Lovegood pair us up.”

“I’m going to have a long talk with Luna, I think.” Hermione said. “Although, it seems hardly fair to let someone else be placed at the receiving end of your vicious tongue. Others might not be up to the challenge.”

Draco wanted to beg her on his knees not to talk to Lovegood. To continue to be his liaison with the Law Department. Every assignment with her was torture, but the alternative was to not see her at all. And that was worse. But instead of doing that, he snorted. “You’re not a challenge, Granger. But at least your attempts at clap backs are enough to pique my interest.”

“Careful, Malfoy, that came close to being a backhanded compliment.” Hermione snickered.

Draco inwardly told her that she was a bright and intelligent witch and that talking to her was intellecutally stimulating and a pleasureable.

While they walked, Hermione picked up some daisies with her wand and gestured silently at Draco to do the same. Draco did not hesitate to do her bidding.

“You must be starved for attention if you take that as a compliment,” he said. “But then, I guess the Weasel is not a clandestine poet who managed to hide his talent to the world, and showers you with praise in the most exquisite words when you’re alone.”

Surely, insulting the Weasel should get her riled up? And give her cheeks that lovely red hue? He would die to see that red hue in other contexts, but he was as usual well down the road of getting Hermione’s knickers in a twist - and not in the way he wanted.

She laughed though and the chime of her laughter cut straight to Draco’s heart.

“It’s just the image of Ron as clandestine poet is hilarious,” Hermione admitted. She was not angry. Why was she not angry?

“Insult Ron all you want, Malfoy.”

Draco stared.

“We broke up two months ago, didn’t you know? I thought it was the talk at the office. And there was even an article in the prophet.”

“Did that article have a picture of the Weasel and you in better times?” Draco asked.

Hermione nodded.

He could hardly tell her that he had incinerated the Prophet that day in a fit of jealousy just because of that picture.

Draco didn’t know what to say. Many snarky comments came to his mind, and he just knew they would tumble out if he was not careful. He bit on his lip. Hard. Lovegood would probably look at him with pity and tell him that he suffered from another wrackspurt infection.

“Why?” he pressed out. He had to know.

“Because he mislaid one of my plastic binders. The one with the possible menus for the wedding.”

“That seems a bit… “ Draco searched for a fitting word.

“Drastic? Exaggerated? Out of proportions?”

He tried not to nod sheepishly. “I mean, I know you’re obsessed with having everything in order. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that mislaying one of the objects of your obsession would be considered an Azkaban worthy crime in your eyes. How did he mislay it?”

“He shrank it and it fell out of his pocket. He claims that George put an emptying spell on his pockets.”

“Not to defend the Weasel. But it’s a brilliant and believable excuse. You have to give him that.”

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Draco whisked a branch out of her way that would have poked her in her face.

“After I fought with him about the lost binder, he told me that it didn’t matter. That his mom would sort the menu out.”

The tiny voice in Draco’s head laughed at that. At least he was not the only one to blunder fundamentally in Hermione’s presence. A part of him was sorry for her. A much larger part was incredibly glad. Now, all he had to do was direct all his jokes at the Weasel. He tried to think of something clever to say, but drew a blank. Could he not insult the Weasel any longer, because he now knew that Hermione wouldn’t be upset about that? It was as if his tongue was cursed.

“It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I think I knew before our row that it was not the best idea.” Hermione’s voice only held a tinge of regret, and it made Draco’s heart beat erratically.

How about me? He wanted to ask her. I’d never do that to you. I’d cherish your commitment, your diligence, your enthusiasm. He chided himself. If he did not finally manage to get rid of his bloody inclination to insult her, she would just laugh at him; or worse, think it was a prank.

“Here’s the clearing where Lovegood saw them.”

She laid her fingers on her lips. Draco envied her fingers.

“We’d best be silent to prevent the bickering. We don’t want to drive them off.”

Hermione took the flowers they had collected and linked them to form a wreath. She had lowered herself to the ground, but was still on her knees, her face concentrated.

Draco let himself fall on the ground and tried to look as if he were at his leisure.

Her eyes glittered with amusement. The sun was about to set and some curls of her hair became alight with a bronze shimmer. Draco wanted to touch them, but instead tied his occlumency around himself like a second skin. She put the wreath on her locks. She looked like a fairy herself and Draco’s heart jumped in his ribcage. He wished he could burn this image into his memory.

Draco frowned. She still held one wreath.

Hermione levitated it towards Draco’s head. He was taken aback, shaking his head, loathe to be adorned with flowers.

He wanted to protest, loudly. She came closer, reached for his face with one hand and laid her finger on his lips. “We need to prepare, just in case your coin is wrong.”

His heart pounded hard in his chest. He was sure he was sporting a very sheepish look.

She tapped on his chest. “And remember, respectful, kind and truthful.”

***

They sat on the grass and waited for the moon to rise. Draco was sure his imagination was playing tricks with his mind. He felt like they were both in a lake that lay completely calm under the stars, and every time Hermione moved, ripples of her warmth would reach him, like tiny water waves touching his skin.

He tried to ignore the fact that he felt ridiculous. If he rolled his eyes to look up, he could just make out some of the flower petals from the wreath that adorned his head. He tried to talk to Hermione, but every time he opened his mouth, she laid her finger on her lips to signal silence.

“Remember, they won’t come if we banter.”

Draco wanted to tell her that he did not want to banter; that he wanted to talk, but she shook her head silently insisting on his silence.

Draco flipped his coin. Heads came up every time, until the very last time, when the coin dropped from his fingers and spun away between the blades of grass.

They appeared just when the moon stood full and silvery above the trees. Stars danced on their hair, their wings glittered, and the dark green of their faces glowed. Three.

Hermione stood up and bowed and Draco followed her example.

 _“What do you want?”_ Their voices were only in his head.

“We want to ask for your tears.” His voice sounded rough and ugly in his own ears.

 _“To what purpose?”_ Their eyes seemed to burn into his.

“A friend of mine is working on a potion. He wants to remedy the long-time effect of the _cruciatus_ curse.”

Their eyes seemed to burn into his, directly seeing into his heart. The glowing of their faces was diminished. Draco flinched. He could see how they looked at his left arm, where the mark was. He thought about all the stories that cautioned against lying to the Tylwyth Teg, or telling part-truths. He wondered if his words did not hold enough truth.

“I want to help with this endeavour,” he added hastily.

The glow returned to their faces.

 _“And what do you want?”_ They looked at Hermione.

“I am only here to observe.” She harrumphed. Her voice sounded more timidly than he would have thought possible.

The glowing of their faces dimmed again.

“And I want Malfoy to succeed. He is on probation and it would help him and Nott if this potion is a success. The people at the ministry who want him to fail are nincompoops.” Her face was flushed.

That made Draco inhale sharply. He risked looking at Hermione from the side.

_“We will get three truths from you, from both of you.”_

“I hate flower crowns,” Draco blurted out.

The anger in their eyes almost burned him. _“Do not waste this. Painful truths, wizard! Truths about the other. Remember, kind and respectful.”_

Silence settled on the clearing. Draco’s breath escaped his lips in shallow puffs.

“I …” he started, and then hesitated again.

Hermione scowled at him.

“I actually like working with him,” Hermione in true Gryffindor fashion surged ahead. She pointed at him. “His tongue is a menace. He bristles and fumes, but his actions are different. His actions are considerate and helpful.”

Draco felt his eyebrows rise as if of their own volition. The Tylwyth Teg weighed their heads and then nodded.

“The days I work with Hermione are my favourite days.” That had been easy. “And I really like working for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, anyway.” He realised too late that he had blundered and said her name.

He felt a flush creep up his face. There was a glitter of amusement in the eyes of the fairies. He tried to occlude, but ran into a wall. They would not let him.

“He had such a pointy face as a boy.” Hermione mused. “He is handsome now. I had a fight with my ex about that.”

Now was his chance. He could finally tell her, how beautiful she was.

“Her hair is a like a squirrel’s nest, she is so tiny that she could live in a doll house, her freckles are everywhere. And why does she always opt for practical clothes and shoes?”

His mouth stood wide open. That was not what he had wanted to say. Hermione punched his arm. Hard.

“Eh,” she shouted. “That was neither kind nor respectful!”

The Tylwyth Teg laughed.

_“Since when have you been cursed, wizard?”_

Draco stared.

“C… ursed?” he stammered.

One of them came closer. Draco could not have said, if it was a male or a female. They touched his lips, his throat, his ears. They rubbed their fingers, and tiny dark tendrils rose in the air and evaporated.

_“Do you ever have the feeling that your tongue does not say what your heart wants you to say?”_

Draco nodded. “Almost every time I talk to her. I never want to insult her. It just happens.”

They smiled. _“Try again.”_

“She has so many curls, that her hair shines no matter from what angle I look. She is so small and yet has such a big heart and such strength. Her freckles dust her skin as if they were stars on a clear summer night.”

Hermione stared at him. “Who are you? And what have you done to Draco Malfoy?”

Draco pointed at the Tylwyth Teg who looked at them, the friendly glow on their faces still in place.

_“One more truth.”_

Draco didn’t know what possessed him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, ever since the Yule Ball, if not even before that. I was a stupid teenage boy and thought the only way to get your attention was to pull your braids. And then it became dangerous and I made a habit of insulting you, so that you would not be in danger if anybody guessed. And then the war happened….”

He hung his head. “I made all the wrong choices.”

“Ever since the end of the war I wanted to be nice to you, kind, but my tongue has had a life of its own.”

“Are you telling me that every time you insulted me, riled me up, bickered, you wanted to compliment me? Is this a prank?” She had narrowed her eyes at him.

Draco turned on his heels and ran; the Tylwyth Teg, their tears and their truth be damned. He could not bear it.

He would have outrun her easily with his longer legs, had it not been for that cursed root that happened to grow over the path. He fell as if he had been hit by a bludger. And he laid there for what felt like an eternity, trying to calm himself.

Hermione caught up with him.

“Are you hurt?”

Draco groaned. “Only my pride,” he mumbled under his breath.

He refused her outstretched hand and picked himself up. “We’d best agree that this was all just a dream.”

“How would you explain this then?” Hermione asked. There was a vial in her hands.

“They gave you their tears?”

“I gave them my third truth as well.”

She linked her arms with his and he let her lead him away. He felt as if he was dreaming, the wood path, the moon, Hermione close to him.

Hermione close to him. It could not be true.

She pressed his coin in his hand, before they apparated.

“You have to adjust it. Tylwyth Teg do exist, after all. I am quite certain though that Luna lied about the karignats.”

“She lied? She never lies. Are you certain?”

She laughed at him. “The Tylwyth Teg just told me to give their regards to Luna and tell her that her hunch about you being cursed was correct. And I have the suspicion that she used the Welsh word for love ‘caru’ to name these particular little creatures.”

“Why didn’t she just tell me? And who cursed me anyway? What kind of curse was it?”

“It made you say the opposite of what you wanted to say. And you are so imaginative about your insults. I’ve always known you are never at a loss for words.” She laughed. “As to who cursed you? I’m sure we’ll work it out.”

She rose to her tiptoes and gently drew his head down so that her lips came close to his ear. “I told them my third truth. I’ve always wanted someone who has a way with words. A clandestine poet perhaps. I’m curious what you will come up with.”

He did not hold back after that and told her everything he ever wanted to say.

***

“Karignats, boss, really?” Draco placed the vial with the tears on Lovegood’s desk.

She smiled benignly. “You should learn Welsh. It is an interesting language.”

“I certainly owe the Tylwyth Teg.”

“Pass a night on a mountain and come down a poet the next morning. Theo sent me a very excited owl. He saw you and Hermione at the Leaky this morning.”

Draco flushed. “I didn’t even realise Theo was there.”

“No, I guess you were too preoccupied with…. How did Theo call it? Being incredibly sappy. He thinks you overdo it.”

“I have to make amends for quite a long time and then some more.” Draco told her.

“Who placed the curse on you anyway?” she asked. “Your father?”

Draco shook his head. “No, it was my mother. She wanted to protect me from spilling the truth while Voldemort was in our house. She thought I had long outgrown my – how did she call it – infatuation, and that it did not matter anymore.”

Luna patted his hand. “At some point, parents do not know all of our secrets and that is how it should be. Will you and Hermione join us next Friday for dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider giving my long fic 'The Phoenix Potion' a try!


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